Tearmoon Empire_ Volume 2

fled with the guards before we surrounded the manor, ignoring our pleas and
abandoning the very responsibility of governance.”

His voice did not possess the velvet texture of a singer’s, nor did it
resonate with power as a guard captain’s might. It had a very particular ebb
and flow that imbued it with a charisma most often seen in politicians seeking
to energize, or perhaps instigate, the masses to action.

“It is very unfortunate that we could not prevent the mayor’s escape, but
in return, we have gained control over the town without losing a single man.
This is all thanks to you, my comrades. None of this would have been
possible if you hadn’t answered our call and lent us your strength. For that
you have my deepest gratitude.”

Roars of approval rose throughout the listening crowd of youths. Despite
the fact that they hadn’t even fought a battle, nevermind emerged victorious,
their morale was extremely high.

“Ah... A compelling speaker,” Sion commented. “More firebrand than
frontman perhaps, with the way he stirs up emotions, but he plays both parts
well. Is that your brother, Lynsha?”

His question was answered not by Lynsha but the speaker himself who
looked in their direction.

“Hey, Lynsha. I didn’t know you were coming.”
“Lambert...” Lynsha murmured, meeting his gaze.
“Oh? I see you brought some kids with you. Who are they?” her brother
asked as he glanced quizzically at her companions. “Might they be the kids
Jem was talking about? The ones who are supposed to be a danger to the
revolution?”
At his words, the whole crowd of people reached for their swords. Sion
was about to respond in kind, but Lambert held up a hand to pacify his
audience.
“Peace! We must show restraint, comrades, lest we debase the integrity of
our voices, for who would lend an ear to the words of those who draw their
swords on children?”
“I brought them here so you can hear what they have to say. Please,
Lambert...” Lynsha implored. “Talk to them.”
“Talk, you say?”
He gave Sion and Mia a scrutinizing look before the corners of his lips
turned up in a faint smile.

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Chapter 33: Mia and Sion... Reach the

Same Conclusion!

“Let’s not stand around out here. What say we head inside for this talk?”
Mia’s trio followed Lambert into the manor.
“Come in, come in,” he bade. “Welcome to... well, not exactly my humble
home, but you get the idea.”
He spoke with an air of nonchalance as he strolled with the elegant stride
of a noble through the main hall.
“Let’s see... I believe the office was down this way...”
He pushed open an elaborate door and led them into a stately room that
definitely looked the part of a powerful person’s office. A chandelier hung
from the ceiling. It was of simple design, but it was still, you know, a
chandelier. Well-cleaned and transparent, its crystalline radiance dazzled.
“Hah. What nerve,” Lambert said, gesturing obliquely at the expensive
fixture before striding brazenly toward the office’s desk. “They swipe all
those taxes from us, and this is what they spend it on?”
He plopped into the mayor’s chair and leaned against the backrest.
“Hm. Expensive-looking,” he remarked with pursed lips, “but not
particularly comfortable.”
“Lambert! Enough already! What’s the point of all this?! What’ll it
accomplish?!”
“Shut it, Lynsha. This is politics, and you’re a woman. I have no intention
of talking about the former with the latter. It’s a waste of time.”
He leaned back farther into his chair so that he was looking down his nose
at her.
That reminds me. Remno has a pervasive culture of male chauvinism,
doesn’t it?
Mia’s opinion of Lambert immediately took a nosedive. Well, as much of
a nosedive as it could manage, considering it hadn’t been very high to begin
with.

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“What interests me far more... is these two.” Lambert looked from Mia to
Sion before his smile turned cordial. “But, ah, I seem to have forgotten my
manners. Where are the tea and sweets, you must be wondering. Take a seat
first, and I’ll have them brought to us.”

My, tea and sweets! This man knows how to welcome a guest!
Mia’s opinion of Lambert swung back upward. It was only a small
recovery, but it put him above the likes of Prince... whatever Abel’s brother’s
name was. He was still below the Diamond Legionnaires though; Mia was a
lover of large men, and he didn’t fall under that category.
“I appreciate the cordiality, but I do believe we’re all on a bit of a clock,
so I think we should get straight to the point.”
Sion ignored the guest couch and remained standing, never taking his eyes
off Lambert. There wasn’t a hint of laxity in his wary gaze. As for Mia, she
was already comfortably embedded in the couch cushions. She’d even shifted
her bottom around a little to find the comfiest spot possible to lean back and
sink into their soft embrace. Like Sion, there wasn’t a hint of laxity in her
wary gaze. Except hers was directed at the door, awaiting the arrival of tea
and sweets with predatory focus.
“Well, color me intimidated, Your Highness. It seems that the rumors are
true; Sion Sol Sunkland can indeed strike fear into the hearts of his opponents
with a single look.”
Lambert clapped his hands in joking applause as he quipped. Lynsha’s
eyes widened at this comment, but the prince in question was unmoved.
“Still, I have to say,” he continued, “for the prince of a kingdom to march
unguarded into a place like this... You certainly live up to your name, Your
Recklessly Bold Highness.”
“You knew, then.”
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t have let you keep your sword otherwise,” he
said, still lounging in his chair.
“I see. I’d assumed you took us for mere children and deemed us
harmless.” Sion pointedly rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and
narrowed his eyes at Lambert. “So? What’s the deal here? Why did you
welcome a pair of ostensible enemies, and even let us keep our weapons?
Aren’t we a danger to the revolution? What do you gain from this?”
“I have my reasons. To be perfectly honest with you, O Crown Prince of
Sunkland, I was counting on your kingdom’s help. After all, this,” he

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gestured in the direction of the crowd outside, “is a tad insufficient for our
purposes.”

“What you are requesting is military intervention. I’ll kindly remind you
that mobilizing an army is not as simple as rallying a rabble.”

“Huh. I’ll be damned. Now isn’t that the oddest thing to hear from the lips
of His Highness Sion Sol Sunkland, upholder of justice and champion of all
that is right and fair? Do you feel nothing after witnessing the state of this
kingdom? A sensible politician who cares about the people is thrown in jail
and heavy taxes are imposed while a tyrant of a monarch runs amok, and
you’re going to turn a blind eye?”

Sion hadn’t actually seen the people’s destitution for himself. However, if
the King had indeed thrown a loyal subject in jail for having the courage to
speak out against flawed policy, then it was true that he couldn’t simply stand
by and watch.

“All right. Suppose, then, that Sunkland promises you its support. I
nonetheless fail to see how you can ensure your survival until help arrives.”

That brought a smile to Lambert’s lips. He tapped his head with his finger.
“Think about where we are. This place is halfway between the capital and
Donovan County. Which means...”
Sion’s eyes narrowed.
“...You’re going after their logistics operations, aren’t you? You plan to
cut off the Diamond Legion’s supply line and isolate them from the capital,”
he said as he folded his arms thoughtfully.
They were, of course, still within Remno’s borders, so even if their supply
station was raided they could receive provisions from elsewhere in the
country. However, rerouting the logistics would take time, and the resulting
confusion would surely impact the soldiers’ morale. If the revolutionaries had
led a revolt in this town with the specific intention of leveraging its
geographic utility in this fashion...
I was under the impression that they were a disorganized rabble. Was I
wrong? An alarm went off in his head. Frontman and firebrand, huh... I can’t
say for certain just yet, but he seems like a man who knows what he’s doing.
It would be unwise to underestimate him.
In his mind, he cranked the caution level for Lambert up a notch.

Meanwhile, what was going on in Mia’s...

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My! Cookies! With cute little designs on them to boot!
...Was mentally applauding the arrival of her long-awaited sweets. She
popped one into her mouth before anyone had the chance to utter a word and
immediately held her cheeks in sensuous delight as it melted into pure,
sugary goodness on her tongue. Only after thoroughly savoring it did she turn
to the man who’d brought her the cookies.
This man... knows what he’s doing. I’d better not underestimate him.
Weirdly enough, the two of them reached the same conclusion.

“So, what do you think, Prince Sion? Are my words folly or insight?”
asked Lambert, grinning smugly as he laid out a map of Remno on the desk.
“Personally, I believe they’re the latter.”

The Remno capital lay in the kingdom’s northern region. When looking at
the map, the town of Senia was on the bottom left, where Mia and company
currently resided. A fat line could be seen beside the town, marking a major
road through the center of the kingdom that led to Donovan County in the
south.

“So this is the supply route you plan to cut off,” murmured Sion as he
traced his finger along the line. “If this road is blocked off, is there another
way to get through?”

“There is, but it won’t be easy. Chances are, it’ll take them a while to
prepare.”

Remno had one thing it should be proud of... and it wasn’t its powerful
army. It was actually the wide network of roads that spanned its kingdom.

What did Keithwood say again? If memory serves... That the true strength
of Remno lies in its highways connecting noble domains to one another,
which provides the basis for the extreme mobility of the army’s rapid
response force.

Even infantry, which normally had limited mobility, could be loaded onto
wagons and transported at great speed, significantly expanding Remno’s
strategic and tactical options. Furthermore, the highways ensured supply lines
could be maintained smoothly and efficiently. These qualities freed up its
elite unit — the central rapid response force — to be deployed with
concentrated precision. Having perfected their defensive system, if they were
to then expand a little more — to continue enhancing its capabilities — then
the vector of their attention could turn from inward to out, and their military

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apparatus would change from an aegis of order to a weapon for invasion.
So that’s what this round of heavy taxes is for.
Seeing that Sion was deep in thought, Lambert gave him another little

push.
“You know, talk of method and tactics is all well and good, but isn’t there

something more important? You’re surely aware, Prince Sion, that the
government of this kingdom has sent the Diamond Legion — an excessively
powerful military force — to suppress its own people. Does that alone not
disqualify them from serving as our leaders? We’re just lucky that fighting
has yet to commence, but once it does...”

Sion pressed his lips together. The implications were dire, and that alone
justified the criticism being leveled against the government. A unilateral
massacre was about to take place, and he’d be damned if he was going to
stand by and let it happen.

The situation is doubtlessly complicated... but the fact is that they
burdened their people with heavy taxes, then imprisoned their own
chancellor for daring to speak on the people’s behalf. Is that alone not
egregious enough an act to pronounce them unfit to rule? I wasn’t expecting
much from this trip other than to provide Mia with some company, but...
Should I actually be counting my blessings? If I didn’t come, I wouldn’t have
learned about the reality on the ground here, and I wouldn’t have personally
gotten to know these revolutionaries. Maybe this is a chance to—

A clink of ceramic jerked Sion out of his thought spiral. His head snapped
toward the direction of the sound, where Mia had just set her teacup down on
its plate. She leaned her head back and, her eyes closed in a look of pure
pleasure, let out a deep, satisfied sigh, presumably at the flavor of the tea
she’d just sipped. The smile she wore formed gentle dimples on her cheeks,
which were accentuated by the glow of a faint blush. There was an air of
nonchalance to her that was conspicuous and... almost deliberate. And
immediately, it hit him.

Scorching sun... He almost got me.
The haze of heat in his mind dissipated, and cold clarity set in. He looked
at the man before him.
Frontman and firebrand, huh. I see he’s particularly talented at the latter.
Lambert was a compelling speaker and a force to be reckoned with. He
employed words with the skill of a conman, imbuing them with a charm that

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wormed its way into one’s heart.
“What I want,” said the firebrand, “is to change this kingdom... into one

where injustice no longer reigns.”
“By the way...” Sion interjected. Figuring it wasn’t wise to keep listening

to a swindler speak, he changed the topic. “Weren’t we supposed to be
obstacles to the revolution? I heard from some of your friends that a fellow
who goes by the name of Jem had mentioned something to that effect.”

“Ah, right. That reminds me...” Lambert grinned and looked at Mia. “I’ve
been meaning to do something about that as well, Your Highness Mia Luna
Tearmoon.”

“Eh?”
She gave him a deer in the headlights look.
“It is morally imperative that our resistance movement succeeds, and I’d
like for you people to avoid doing anything that would prevent that.”

As Lambert continued to orate, Jem’s words echoed in his mind. The man
had informed him that the Prince of Sunkland and the Princess of Tearmoon
were going to secretly enter the kingdom. Prince Sion should be converted
into an ally, but Princess Mia was a potential threat to the revolution.
Therefore, she needed to be eliminated in a manner that wouldn’t seem too
suspicious to Sion.

But thanks to my stupid sister, that’s never going to happen now.
If he pushed ahead and tried to harm Princess Mia in plain sight, it would
ruin any chance he had of getting Sion to help. That meant he had to fall back
on the next best plan.
I need Princess Mia to either join our side or at least keep her mouth shut.
Fortunately, he was dealing with a little girl. He’d heard all the rumors,
but at the end of the day, she was just a little kid. A little girl.
It can’t be that hard to talk her into helping us.
With that thought in mind, he turned to her with a grin.
“In any case, I’m sure you’re very tired from all the traveling today. If
you’d like, you can feel free to stay the night in this manor. It’s certainly no
palace, but you’ll at least enjoy a large bath and bed.”
“My! A bath?!”
Seeing that Mia’s eyes had doubled in size at the mention of a bath,
Lambert knew he had this in the bag.

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The Princess of Tearmoon is a bath fan, huh. It looks like the rumors were
right on.

It seemed to him that it shouldn’t be long before he had her in the palm of
his hand. Feeling certain of his victory, he began planning what he should do
afterward. This kind of behavior had a name: counting one’s chickens before
they’d hatched.

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Chapter 34: Princess Mia... Gets More
Blood Flowing to Her Head

“Look, Mia, I know you have your ways, but wasn’t that a little careless?”
“Careless? Whatever do you mean?”
Sion’s sigh came from beyond the door to Mia’s room.
“I know he’s unlikely to harm you as long as he’s counting on military aid
from Sunkland, but...”
If Lambert tried to harm Mia, it would be an immediate deal-breaker for
Sion. Furthermore, it would undoubtedly make an enemy of the whole
Tearmoon Empire. Therefore, the chances of Lambert turning on them were
very low. Moreover, if they left the manor and roamed around outside, they
ran the risk of running into the man called Jem. If he wasn’t aware of
Lambert’s plans, he could very well make an attempt on Mia’s life. It was
safer for them to stay here with Lambert, who was at least willing to
peacefully divulge some information.
“Still, spending the night here is—”
This sentence was interrupted by the sound of splashing water. Mia, you
see, was currently in the midst of enjoying a nice, hot bath like the
debaucherous aristocrat she was. Sion had chosen to stand guard outside her
door in case of emergency, but the constant sloshing from inside the room
assaulted his ears and mind, leaving him restless and a little stressed out. In
an attempt to distract himself, he kept trying to make small talk, but his
uneasiness caused it to come out more like idle grievance than friendly
banter.

My! How terribly adorable!
Mia, in a rare display of perceptiveness, accurately discerned Sion’s
flustered state, and she seized upon the opportunity to entertain herself at his
expense. With a downright devilish grin, she purposefully fluttered about in
the bath, knowing full well that the sound of her conspicuous splashing

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would torment her anxious guard outside. The thought that Prince Perfect
was now at her mercy filled her with an intoxicating sense of superiority that
she simply couldn’t contain. Her behavior escalated more and more as she
sloshed around nonstop, ensuring he wouldn’t have a moment of peace. At
one point, she even lifted a leg out of the water and struck a seductive pose.
Not that he could see her, of course, but it’s the thought that counts. In her
mind, she was now the Great Seductress of the Empire.

Mmhmhm... Face my revenge, Sion!
Meanwhile, Lynsha stood beside her, waiting, with a look of profound
exasperation, for the pint-sized succubus to stop it with the bathtub
acrobatics. She’d been told to wait inside just in case something happened,
but did it really make sense to have her do this? While she was busy
pondering the necessity of her job assignment, Mia picked up a bottle of
shampoo and poured some into her palm. She rubbed it between her hands
and promptly frowned.
“Now that’s odd. For a Remno shampoo, it doesn’t produce a very good
lather... I suppose this means the one I received from Prince Abel must be
specially made...”
“Receiving presents from a prince? Wow... you really are a princess,
aren’t you? Out of curiosity, what kind of shampoo was it?” asked Lynsha.
“It had an adorable drawing of a horse on it. I don’t remember what it was
called though...”
“Uh... Huh. Isn’t that—”
“It was such a wonderful shampoo. When I meet Abel, I’ll have to tell
him I owe him a big thank you.”
The sight of Mia’s innocent smile convinced Lynsha to leave her sentence
unfinished. Ignorance, she decided, was probably worth this particular bliss.
“Ah, right. You, uh, sure do, I guess?”
“Mmhmhm, don’t worry, Lynsha. I’m sure you’ll find a nice young man
for yourself someday as well,” said Mia, incredibly full of herself at the
moment.
The smugness was honestly a little grating, but Lynsha, in a display of
profound maturity, resisted the urge to snap at the cheeky little aristocrat.
Someone, after all, had to be the adult in the room.
Ahh, I must say, thought Mia, taking a bath like this makes me miss Anne.
Normally, Anne would be giving her back a nice, gentle scrub. Under the

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current circumstances, though... Well, she couldn’t exactly ask Lynsha to fill
in.

“By the way, you’re still going to stop my brother, right?”
“...Uh, well, you know what they say. Haste makes waste, right? And it’d
be a terrible shame if this wonderfully hot bath went cold, so let’s just enjoy
this for now.”
Mia dodged the question, but it made her ponder her next step. The
combined effect of nourishment through the oral intake of sweets and bath-
mediated improvement in circulation was sending glucose-rich blood to her
head, and her brain was regaining its function. She was on top of the world,
which, to be clear, was definitely a description of her perception of reality
and not her actual place in it.
After the bath, having rid herself of many days’ worth of sweat and grime,
she was back up to maybe eighty percent of her usual beauty. Unfortunately,
her cleanliness did not translate into competence, and ultimately, no good
ideas materialized.

Faint wisps of warm vapor were still rising from Mia’s head as she
walked out of the bathroom. The bathrobe prepared for her was a tad large,
but the comfort afforded by the extra space was perfect for her flushed body.

“Phew. I feel refreshed... Hm? What’s the matter?” she asked, tilting her
head innocently at Sion, who looked like he’d just fought a war and barely
made it back to tell the tale.

He let out a bone-weary sigh and shook his head.
“I’m honestly dying to know what kind of plans you’re cooking up in that
head of yours... but regardless, we should still meet up with Keithwood and
Tiona. Knowing them, they’ve probably made contact with the Wind Crows
already and are searching for us as we speak. Also, I need to get word back to
Sunkland...”
He spoke with urgency, but he figured they still had a few days to work
with before anything significant happened.
He was wrong.
The next day, a scouting party returned with a report. Knights bearing the
King’s mark had already taken up position along the roads, and leading them
was...

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Chapter 35: Black Crows and White
Crows

Monica Buendia.
That was the name of the maid who’d assassinated Prince Abel in the
previous timeline. As the prince had had a reputation for being an
extraordinary playboy, many figured it was a crime of passion, but the details
of the incident were never made clear and would ultimately be lost to history.

Let us swim back up the time stream to the day after Mia had fallen into
the river.

Monica walked down a hallway in the royal castle of Remno. Eventually,
she stopped in front of a government official’s office and rapped on the door
with a particular rhythm. A few seconds later, the door swung open
soundlessly.

“Master Graham.”
“Ah, it’s you, Monica...”
The man gestured for her to come inside, making no attempt to hide his
dark mood. Monica had always thought he had a crabby sort of face, but
today it was even crabbier than usual.
“Freaking Diamond Legion...” muttered Graham. “What the hell is the
matter with them? Why haven’t they done anything yet? That blasted Great
Sage... Don’t tell me this is her doing again...”
He spoke with the paranoid tone of a full-blown conspiracy nut. After
grumbling to himself for a little longer, he finally looked up at Monica.
“And? What do you want?”
“I received this this morning.”
She held out her hand to reveal a small piece of folded papyrus.
Graham yanked it out of her hand with a scowl and opened it up.
“Princess Mia and Prince Sion... Augh, damn it, they’re...”
He grimaced after reading it and huffed out a frustrated breath before

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handing Monica another piece of papyrus.
“Send this back home.”
“Right away.”
She took it and began parsing its contents. Her job was to take encrypted

messages and transcribe them into code for messenger birds. However, after
she finished reading Graham’s letter, she frowned.

“Excuse me, but are you sure this is right?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is false information that will drag our homeland into a war. Is it
really all right for me to send this?”
“Hmph. What a fitting concern for you Black Crows. Keep roaming the
shadows like the snoops you are, content to simply observe. Unlike you,
however, I am a White Crow, and I must act. Whereas your job ends with
information, mine starts with it. I must use it — weaponize it — for the glory
of our homeland. Information warfare is our raison d’etre, and we White
Crows are the vanguard.”
Monica kept her eyes on the letter but bit hard into her lip.
The Wind Crows was the intelligence unit of the Kingdom of Sunkland.
Established many generations ago by a past king, its primary mission was to
send undercover agents into surrounding nations and ensure information
flowed back to the homeland. The intelligence they provided was vital in
informing Sunkland’s diplomatic and military decisions. Throughout most of
its history it had operated in secret, collecting information and reporting back.
It could, therefore, be argued that the Wind Crows was a passive
organization.
Change came in the form of a man named Jem, who advocated for a more
aggressive approach to intelligence that would lay the groundwork for an
expansionist project. No longer would they simply bring back the
information. They would make active use of it to weaken other kingdoms,
sow discord among their people, and expand Sunkland’s borders under the
name of justice. In order to carry out this project, a special team was formed
within the Wind Crows and given the name “White Crows.” They were the
ivory messengers that would herald the righteous glory of Sunkland
throughout the continent.
“I trust you understand that the work of us White Crows is of the utmost
importance. Our mission is to be prioritized above all else.”

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“...Yes, I understand.” Monica nodded, but it didn’t make the
acknowledgment any easier to swallow.

After leaving Graham’s office, Monica let out a soft sigh.
What am I even doing...
She was a Sunkland native, and she felt a great deal of pride in her
motherland. The stalwart dedication of its royalty to justice and fairness, and
the constant vigilance of its government against fraud and corruption made
her glad to call the kingdom home. To her, Sunkland was a beacon of glory
and virtue.
And yet, the things that we’re doing... These deeds... Aren’t they stains on
Sunkland’s good name?
Tendrils of doubt began to envelop her heart, and her breath quickened.
Just as the panic was about to set in, someone rammed into her, sending both
her and her documents flying. She landed hard on her knees and realized with
shock that the critical piece of papyrus was lying on the ground in plain sight.
The content was encrypted, but it was still unwise to expose it to uncertified
eyes. She rushed to recover it, but just as she reached her hand toward the
page, a boot came down on it with a thud.
“Ah—”
She looked up to find a set of teeth set in a leering smile. It belonged to a
middle-aged official.
“Move, woman. Don’t just sit there. You’re in the way,” the man said
disdainfully.
Monica’s mission was to gather information as a royal maid. In Remno,
women were looked down on, and the lips of senior officials could be
shockingly loose around them. Presumably, they assumed women simply
didn’t have the capacity to grasp the significance of anything they heard.
Therefore, this disdain... this demeaning contempt she suffered was
ultimately to her advantage. She should be glad to be treated this way.
Alas, the mind can’t hide from what the heart does know. To suffer in the
line of duty... was still to suffer. Every such encounter chipped away at her
soul. More and more, she found herself assaulted by waves of bitter disgust
whenever she witnessed her fellow maids being subjected to denigration by
men. At times, she could barely keep herself from retching.
This wretched kingdom... maybe it is justice for it to get wiped out.

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Even if a river of blood had to be spilt, wouldn’t it be worth it to trade this
deep injustice for a more righteous future under Sunkland’s rule? The thought
creeped out of the darkest part of her heart and invaded her mind. Just as it
was about to take root, however, a boy’s voice rang in her ear.

“Pick. Those. Up.”
A trace of youthful soprano yet lingered in its timbre, but its steady tone
bespoke an unfaltering will. She spun around.
“Did I not make myself clear? I said pick those up. And apologize to her,”
commanded Abel Remno, Second Prince of the kingdom that bore his name.

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Chapter 36: Verdurous Are the Weeds of

Hope

“Ah, Y-Your Highness, this is...” The middle-aged official took a few
panicked steps back. “Uh, that woman, you see... she wasn’t watching where
she—”

“I’ll say it one last time. Pick those up,” Abel growled before taking a step
forward. “Or should I take this to mean that the words of the emasculate
Second Prince are not worthy of your ears?”

“N-No, of course not.”
The official hastily picked up the scattered documents and held them out
at Monica. He impatiently shook them a few times, and when she took them,
he gave her a resentful glare. It did not escape Abel’s notice.
“Also,” the prince added, “let it be known that should I witness any
further disrespect toward her, then I shall consider it to be a slight upon my
own honor.”
He glared pointedly at the official, his narrowed eyes exuding the same
menacing air as a sword drawn on the battlefield. It was a look that could kill.
Oh how the prince has grown... I never thought I’d see a look like that on
him.
Something stirred in Monica as she regarded the expression on Abel’s
face, and for a moment, she retreated into her thoughts. Ever since coming
here, her impression of the young Second Prince hadn’t been all that bad.
Despite the prevailing notions in this kingdom, he’d always treated her well.
It wasn’t just her either. He was considerate toward not only his mother and
sisters, but the maids who served him as well. It showed, she thought, that the
boy had a kind heart. She’d come to see him almost as a younger brother and,
as the days went on, he’d often brought a fond smile to her face.
However, it would be remiss of her to deny that she also deemed him ill-
suited to rule. Indecisive and lacking in discipline, his personality left her no
choice but to assume that he’d struggle to make the hard decisions so often

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required of those who wielded power. Until now, that is...
In a situation like this, the Abel I used to know would have put on that

flippant smile of his and smoothed things over with a laugh. He probably
would have helped me, but he definitely wouldn’t have reprimanded anyone.
And yet... He’s changed.

Now, she saw in Abel a hint of the prince from her homeland, Sion. So
profound was the change that she began to feel a glimmer of hope. Perhaps
he was the one who could free Remno from the shackles of its brutal
misogyny. At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder what it was that
had brought about this transformation in him.

“Are you all right?”
Abel’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, and she looked up to find
him peering down at her.
“Ah, my apologies, Your Highness.”
“The apologies are all mine. I realize that it must be terribly difficult for
all of you to work here. I’m aware of the need for change, but time and again,
I discover that change does not come easily.”
He smiled wryly and ran his hand through his hair.
“Um, at the risk of sounding rude, may I ask what it was that changed you
so?”
“Hm? I’ve changed? Really?”
“Yes. You’ve grown... hardier, and more mature.”
“Ahaha, maybe you’re right. I guess it’s because I can’t afford to be
making a fool of myself in front of her...”
Her...
Monica was intimately familiar with the person to whom he referred. She
was, of course, Mia Luna Tearmoon, Princess of Tearmoon, Great Sage of
the Empire, and the absolute bane of Graham’s existence — the girl who took
Abel’s kindness... and gave it teeth. Gone was the cub who was tender but
lacking, he’d been replaced by a young lion endowed with claw and mane.
Just who was this mystical character she knew only from rumor and hearsay?
Suddenly, she discovered within herself a burgeoning curiosity about the
Great Sage of the Empire.
“What kind of person is this Princess Mia?”
“Hmm, good question...”
Abel silently mulled this over for a while. Then he looked up, causing

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Monica to follow his gaze, before answering with an embarrassed smile,
“She’s... like the moon. Breathtaking, but far beyond my reach. Her
magnificence is such that I’ll never be her match, yet she believes with all her
heart that one day, I will. That’s the kind of person she is... Someone who has
faith in me and encourages me to go further. To do better.”

His words were reverent, his tone tender and heartfelt. Then, his voice
changed.

“That’s why... I need to live up to that faith. I have to be better. I need to.
But...”

As he trailed off, Monica looked at him closer. She discovered that his
face was taut... And it suddenly occurred to her that he was wearing armor.

“Your Highness? You can’t be...”
“Hm? Ah. Yes, I am. Things are apparently at a deadlock on the
frontlines. Morale is probably slipping, so I’ve been told to head out there
and give it a boost. To be honest, my brother is better suited to the task, but
somebody had to go and slam a piece of metal down on his shoulder, so now
I’m up.” He shrugged. “You reap what you sow, I guess. Can’t complain.
Also, as a member of the royal family, I need to do my duty, lest the
monarchy collapse and chaos engulfs the land...”
He straightened his back a little, but his expression didn’t brighten.
“Is there something that worries you?” she asked.
“Hm? Oh, no, not really... It’s just that...” His gaze grew distant, and he
suddenly looked very lonely. “I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for taking
part in the suppression of my own people.”
“Your Highness...”
“I’m off, then.”

After watching Abel depart with his escort, Monica went to her messenger
birds. She released one — a white crow — carrying the message for her
homeland. Then she released another one, sending with it the truth. A black
crow took to the skies. There was no guarantee that her ebony messenger
would find its way to the intended recipient. But even so...

If it does, then that means... fate willed it so, right?
She watched it go, its dark form fading into the distance, fluttering in the
wind, as it made its way toward its secret destination.
Thus, the seeds that an unwitting Mia had so diligently sowed began to

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sprout. Like weeds, they spread from place to place, verdurous and filled with
hope.

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Chapter 37: Princess Mia... Declares Her

Resolve

In a particularly large and luxurious guest room in the mayor’s manor, a
pint-sized princess was currently indulging in a rather excessive amount of
shut-eye. The room was furnished with a bed so big that even Mia — a bit of
a kicker in her sleep — didn’t have to worry about falling off. As soon as
she’d had the chance, she’d rolled herself up in a soft, down-filled comforter
and surrendered herself to its tender embrace.

You can’t really blame her.
It had, after all, been a while since she’d slept in a bed. Furthermore, the
plan was to leave the next day to meet up with Keithwood and Tiona, and the
thought of abandoning her newfound nest was having a negative impact on
her motivation to get up. Sion, worried about being attacked at night, didn’t
actually get much sleep, but such concerns were beneath Mia. They were so
far beneath her that she never even considered the possibility. As it turns out,
ignorance isn’t just bliss; it’s also a great sedative. So she managed to sleep
soundly, mumbling something about delicious mushroom stew while making
slurping noises. Her lips curled up into a gluttonous grin as she continued to
gorge herself in her dreams. Sadly, her scrumptious fantasy was shattered by
a noise coming from the hallway.
“Mmm?” She woke up with a yawn. “How terribly loud... What is the
matter?”
She dangled her legs over the side of the bed and rubbed her eyes. Once
the heavy haze of sleep had cleared from her mind, she stood up, feeling the
soft sensation of thick carpet under her bare feet. She made her way to the
door, put her shoes on, and walked outside into the hallway, down which
Sion just happened to be walking.
“Ah, Sion. Good timing. What’s going on?”
“Well, the— Uh, Mia, maybe you should go change first.”
“Huh?”

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After a few puzzled blinks, she looked down at herself, at which point she
nodded.

“Oh. I think you’re right.”
Currently, Mia’s attire consisted of a big, puffy nightgown made with a
generous amount of wool, a nightcap that resembled a floppy witch’s hat, and
her shoes. It wasn’t her most fashionable moment. Also, there was probably
something to be said about appearing in public in a nightgown as well, but
the clashing styles of her outfit took the spotlight for now.
“Anne would indeed give me an earful if she saw me like this. I suppose
I’ll have to change then.”
She retreated inside her room and quickly put on something more
presentable, after which she followed Sion to the mayor’s office.

As soon as they entered the room, they heard Lambert’s voice.
“There’s no way... They can’t possibly have sent the army here this
fast...”
“But the fact is they just sent a messenger demanding our surrender.”
“What is going on?” asked Sion.
Lambert turned to them, his face slightly paler than usual.
“I just received a report from our comrades that the royal army has taken
up position in the streets, and leading them is the second prince, Abel
Remno.”
“My! Prince Abel!” Mia exclaimed, sheer delight bubbling up at the
unexpectedly welcome development.
That’s right. Some of you may have forgotten, but Mia was a few parts
“lovestruck maiden.” The rest of her was composed of decidedly unmaidenly
qualities like staring with a creepy grin at the body of a handsome boy and
getting cheeky at a couple of young delinquents... but in any case, her inner
girl-on-a-first-date woke from her long slumber and up went her heart rate.
Oh thank the moons I took a bath last night!
But her delight was cut short by Sion’s response.
“The only reason a member of the royal family would personally lead an
army here is to rouse the troops for battle,” he said with a bitter grimace.
“The Diamond Legion is already in position, which means he’s bringing two
things: reinforcements and the king’s command.” He lowered his voice to a
whisper. “So that is the path you have chosen to walk, Prince Abel...”

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There was a moment of silence. Then he turned to Lambert.
“Tell me exactly what the messenger said. Also, I’d like to know where
the national army is currently deployed.”
“What? But—”
“If you want the support of my kingdom, then I suggest you obey.”
For a second, Lambert pursed his lips in thought, but he soon nodded and
directed his subordinate to comply. Sion then turned to Mia.
“Mia, I assume you want to be there?”
“Huh? Uh, but...”
She thought she’d say yes, but the word caught in her throat. She’d be
heading, she realized, to what could very well become a battlefield. There
would be real, imminent danger. It was hardly the kind of place she should
casually be strolling into.
“Of course, even if you don’t go, I will. In that sense... it might actually be
easier if you don’t come with me.”
“What? Why?”
“Things have changed, and I now have a question for Prince Abel that
must be answered. And depending on that answer...” He trailed off, but his
hand moved to the sword at his waist and his eyes narrowed. “What I said to
you that night... It’s time to put my words to the test. I can’t stand by and
watch innocent people be slaughtered.”
“Are you... going to kill him?” she heard a trembling voice say. It was her
own.
“I hope I don’t... I hope I won’t have to.”
Upon hearing that, something hardened in her heart. Tenderness turned to
resolve, and she made up her mind. It was the hardest decision she’d ever
made, and it took every ounce of determination she possessed.
Mia didn’t want Abel to die.
As for Sion... she didn’t want to see him perish this way either. Though
she had no idea what she could do, she couldn’t bear the thought of being left
behind while the two of them went off somewhere to kill each other. At the
very least she wanted to be there. She drew in a breath and let it back out,
steeling her timid heart...
“Prince Sion, I... I will go with yo—!”
...And accidentally bit her tongue in the middle of her rousing declaration
of resolve, hard.

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The moral of this story, then, is to stay within your means, because
overreaching will lead to pain and failure.

Nevertheless, she fixed Sion with a look of determination. The
determination, that is, to hide the fact that her tongue hurt so much she was
nearly in tears.

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Chapter 38: Reunion and Duel

Abel’s horse whinnied. He gave it a pat and looked around. Surrounding
him was a sea of mounted knights — the second company of Remno’s rapid
response force. A sharp, commanding voice boomed at his side.

“Have we still heard nothing from the rebel army?” asked Bernardo
Virgil, the company commander.

He was a tall man with a thick moustache and the piercing gaze of a
falcon. As one of the strongest warriors in Remno, he was referred to as the
Adamantine Spear, which was a tribute to his prowess as well as a physical
description of the weapon he favored. Unlike standard issue spears, which
had metallic tips grafted onto wooden shafts, his was a monster of a weapon
— a metallic behemoth forged entirely from a single bar of steel. Despite the
punishing weight, which precluded most people from using it, he wielded the
spear with ease. He was no Diamond Legionnaire, but an experienced knight
with a distinguished career. Many victories against neighboring nations bore
his name. Countless bandits cursed his existence, and countless more would,
if only they’d lived to tell about it.

I see how this is supposed to work. Bernardo does the actual
commanding, while I sit here, look pretty, and claim credit for my first
campaign.

After observing the dynamics of the company for some time, Abel came
to the conclusion that Bernardo was, for all intents and purposes, sent here to
decorate a young prince’s budding military career.

“Your Highness, how would you like to proceed? I am of the opinion that
we have given them more than enough time... Fortunately, Senia’s walls are
low, and the rebels have fortified it with little more than a few feeble
barricades. Breaking through should be a simple task.”

Contrary to Abel’s prediction, however, Bernardo diligently deferred to
him for every significant decision. Despite the prevailing tendency to make
light of the notoriously weak-willed prince, the veteran commander always
lent a willing ear to Abel’s thoughts. It was a display of immaculate respect

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for both the chain of command and his person, but it also weighed heavily on
his conscience. It meant that the suppression of his people would proceed not
by chance or circumstance, but by his own judgment and command.

“A prince’s duty, huh...” he mouthed quietly to himself. Then he
straightened himself and looked forward. “This place will be a thorn in our
side if we let it be. The troops will also appreciate a morale boost. We should
strike hard and fas—”

“Report from the town!”
A scout rushed into the encampment, and the air thickened with tension.
“What’s the deal? Did they send a messenger?” asked Bernando, his eyes
narrowing.
The young soldier hesitated for a second before replying in an uncertain
tone.
“No. I mean, not exactly... Two kids came, and... they want to speak to
His Highness Prince Abel.”
“A ludicrous request. The rebels wish to see His Highness in person?
We’d have to be out of our minds to permit such nonsense. And what’s this
about kids?”
“W-Well, that’s just it. They’re kids. But, um... not regular kids,
apparently. They claim to be classmates of His—”
“Excuse us.”
Brushing aside the scout’s sputtering explanation, a boy stepped onto the
scene. He walked with the grace and gravitas of a natural sovereign, and
soldiers found themselves reflexively stepping aside to clear a path.
“Prince Sion! Why are you here? Wait, but... that means...” Abel’s eyes
widened as a second figure appeared from behind Sion. “Princess Mia...”
“Prince Abel. I’ve missed you.”
Her argent hair reflected the sunlight, emitting a soft glow like the moon.
Wisdom radiated from her eyes, deep and coruscant. Then, there was her
pearlescent skin... It was all as he’d remembered. With all the breathtaking
beauty of that night at the dance party, Mia Luna Tearmoon appeared before
Abel.
“And I you. Alas, how I wish seeing me were the aim of your visit...”
“Oh? And what other aim do you suggest for my visit?” She gave him a
quizzical head tilt, which Abel knew to be an act. Seeing him was certainly
her intention, but it was nothing more than a corollary — an afterthought —

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of what she’d really come here to do. The purpose of her visit was
undoubtedly to put an end to this foolish conflict. The Great Sage of the
Empire, he reasoned, was not going to come all the way here just to say hi to
him.

She... probably won’t take my side. But even so, I...
For one vulnerable moment, he allowed himself to waver. Then he put his
heart aside and donned the armor of resolve.
“Prince Sion,” he said, his voice hardening, “what about you, then?
Surely, you will not make the same claim as her? I trust you are not here for
tea and talk.”
“No, I am not. At first, I’d only intended to accompany Princess Mia as
her guard. Now, however... I’ve seen too much to stand idly by.” Sion placed
his palm on his sword hilt. “The chance has come earlier than expected... but
it’s time to fulfill my summer promise. You shall have your rematch.”
The declaration caught Abel off guard, and he stared blankly for a second
before quickly collecting himself.
“I take that to mean... you’re challenging me to a duel?”
“Yes, though, should you choose to return to your capital with your sword
still sheathed, I will be more than happy to wait until winter for the next
tournament.”
Abel stared hard at Sion, who cocked a provocative brow. Just as Abel
was about to speak, Bernando stepped forward.
“Their words bear no weight, Your Highness. Disregard them. To
challenge the prince and commander of an army to single combat is ludicro
—”
“Stand down, Bernardo. This is no mere duel. The Crown Prince of
Sunkland has just placed his life on the line for the justice he believes in.
Turning down his challenge would deal a serious blow to our soldiers’
morale.”
Abel dismissed Bernardo’s advice. He glanced at Mia. A bitter smile
flashed across his lips.
And... a part of me just doesn’t want to back down with her watching.
He let out a short breath.
“So be it, Prince Sion. Let us duel.”

M-My? How odd...

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Mia looked from Abel to Sion. She scratched her head. Then she looked at
them again.

I... did just say to Prince Abel that I came here to see him, right? Based
on what I know from Elise’s story, isn’t the next step supposed to be... you
know, a hug, maybe? Or at least some smiles here and there, and then
everyone pats each other on the back and goes home and the problem is
solved?

That was, after all, why Mia had been standing there with her arms
outstretched, waiting for Abel to embrace her. To her bewilderment, the story
no longer seemed to be revolving around her. There were two new
protagonists, and all eyes were now focused on them.

Is it just me or have I been in this situation before? Ah, right. It was
during the swordsmanship tournament when we were eating sandwiches for
lunch. Just like now, those two went off into their own conversation and left
me hanging...

“The roads of my kingdom are broad and level. They will suffice as an
arena for our duel.”

Mia looked up to find that the two princes were already walking away.
“Prince Abel! Wait! A duel? You can’t—”
She rushed to catch up, only to be stopped by a muscular arm.
“Bernardo,” Abel said, turning his head back toward her, “by my
authority as prince, I command you to protect the Princess of Tearmoon. You
are to ensure that no harm befalls her.”
“Are you certain, Your Highness?” asked Bernardo, still holding Mia
back.
“I need the princess to bear witness to the legitimacy of our duel. She
holds a neutral voice, belonging to neither Remno nor Sunkland. Should the
King of Sunkland question the outcome, her word will surely appease him.”
“No! You can’t! Prince Abel! This is all wrong!”
“I... was looking forward to our reunion, Princess Mia. I only wish it had
happened under better circumstances. I wish... we could have...” His voice
wavered. He shook his head and huffed out a short, mocking laugh at
himself. “All that purpose and resolve, and when the time comes, I get cold
feet...”
He set his jaw. Then he turned away, severing their gaze as surely as if
he’d used a sword.

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“Prince Abel!”
Her scream failed to move him. Their gazes failed to meet. His eyes were
now locked firmly on the boy standing in front of him.
“Are your ears deaf to her words?”
“They are deaf to all words. The die has been cast. There is no stopping
now, Prince Sion. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”
“Rot covers your throne, Abel Remno. Do you choose to rot with it?”
“Rotting or not, a kingdom needs a throne. A world without order is a
world in Hell. Chaos breeds suffering, and the people will be its kindling.”
Wipe the kingdom clean of royals and nobles, and bandits would swoop in
to fill the void. Order would collapse. Peace would end.
“If corruption has tainted the throne, then it is my duty to cleanse it, not
destroy it.”
There was a tone of finality to Abel’s voice. He said no more, and quietly
drew his sword.
“I cannot allow you to trample over your people,” replied Sion.
To that end, he was willing to initiate a military intervention to depose the
entirety of the corrupt regime, going so far as to consider long-term
occupation, in which Sunkland would assume the duties of governing until a
new administration was established and operational. Irreconcilable was his
stance with that of Abel, whose loyalty lay with kin and kingdom.
“Should you choose to partake in this brutality, Abel Remno, then I shall
end you here with my own sword.”
With a flash, his sword leapt from scabbard to hand. The finely honed
edge gleamed, its sharpness second only to its wielder’s gaze.
Just like that day in the arena, Abel lifted his weapon high above his head
in his trademark stance of all-out aggression. Sion, meanwhile, held his blade
with a loose arm, its tip angled down in a stance primed to parry and counter.
“Nostalgic, isn’t it?” said Sion. “But the way this ends will be anything
but. Today, you will not catch me off guard.”
“Nor do I intend to. We both know I’m a one-trick pony, so let’s see if the
trick still works.”
Suddenly, there was a burst of movement... and it came from Sion! He
dashed in for a surprise attack! Keeping his body low to the ground, he
lunged forward into striking distance. Having previously seen that Sion
employed a reactionary style, Abel was unprepared for the abrupt assault.

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With a reflexive step backward, Abel broke from his stance, giving Sion the
opening he sought. His advantage, however, proved short-lived, shattered by
the devastating arc of Abel’s strike as he, balance impaired and feet
unplanted, nonetheless brought his blade crashing down in the middle of his
retreat. His sword was a blur, and Sion rushed to react.

“Ugh!”
The speed and power of the swing far exceeded Sion’s expectation, and he
whipped his arm up just swiftly enough to catch the blow with his own
sword. The two weapons met with bone-rattling force, and he had to take a
step back to soften the impact.
“A mighty blow for an unready foe. How mightier, then, were you not off
your tempo?” Sion quipped as he continued to back off. “Well then... It
appears that I’m not the only one who has been preparing for this rematch.”
“Unlike some people, I’m no natural. When you’re training to beat a
genius, you learn to go the extra mile.”
“Your effort is commendable,” replied Sion. “It has bought you time and
respect, but victory will not come so cheaply.”
Abel resumed his overhead stance. Then he went on the offensive,
smoothly transferring the momentum of his forward dash into a powerful
strike. Sion responded by angling his blade, using it like a rail to lead the
strike awry. Sparks flew as metal rode metal, but the force was so great that it
still drove the offending tip through his arm, leaving a bloody gash.
It didn’t faze him.
“Haa!”
Though known for his vicious ripostes, Sion had never demonstrated his
signature strike — not even on the day of the swordsmanship tournament.
That all changed as his sword broke from the clash and lashed out in a
ferocious sweep that traced a trail with surgical precision through Abel’s
side... Who took it without wincing. Instead, he roared and drove his shoulder
into Sion.
“Ugh! Okay... So that’s your game. You dodge into me instead of away,
huh. Not bad, Abel Remno.”
“You’re no pushover yourself, Prince Sion. One wrong move there and
I’d be a dead man,” said Abel before glancing at his bloody side. He patted at
it. “I’m wearing chain mail, and you went through it like a hot knife through
butter.”

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He laughed. They went at it again in a fountain of fiery sparks and
crimson petals. Each bone-shattering blow from Abel was answered with a
parry and riposte. The Sunkland prince fought with deadly grace, spinning
and twirling as though in a dance. The spectating soldiers all held their
breaths as they beheld a dizzying flurry of motion, accentuated by arcs of
bright red blood.

Faced with the relentless onslaught of a genius swordsman, Abel
brandished his only weapon — his staunch refusal to yield. When staring
down a blade, hesitation was the norm. Abel cast that norm aside. Where a
normal person would freeze or flinch, he did not. As each strike approached,
he stepped into it, closing the gap that recoil should have widened. Then he
forced down his fear and stepped forward more, putting himself even closer
to his enemy but farther from a lethal blow. With the added protection of his
military armor, he could be wounded, but he would not fall.

“Well, color me surprised... I didn’t think you’d be such a tough nut to
crack,” said Sion.

“Hah. Glad to know I don’t disappoint,” replied Abel. He smiled, but the
expression was strained.

Genius is the swordplay of Sion Sol Sunkland. Abel could tell that Sion’s
blade was striking him with more and more power. For a prodigy like the
Sunkland prince, readjusting his spacing in the midst of battle was a trivial
task.

I doubt I’ll last much longer... The next... is probably the last...
Abel dropped to one knee, his face a mask of pain, and let out a breath.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar figure. It was Mia.
Ah... She’s watching. I can’t afford to throw in the towel.
He drew a deep breath and forced himself to his feet.
“En garde, Prince Sion. Let’s end this!”
He tightened his grip on his sword, willing all his remaining strength into
his arms for one final strike.

“Enough! Please stop this, both of you! You’re going to die!”
The sight of the two princes preparing to trade one final blow chilled Mia
to the core, and she raised her voice in another desperate plea. To her horror,
neither paid her any heed. Their weapons remained drawn, and despair filled
her heart.

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Ahh... In the end, my words are meaningless, aren’t they? Just like
before...

Her vision blurred, and suddenly, she was back in the old empire. Led by
Ludwig, she raced from place to place, trying to placate the resentful masses.
Again and again, she pleaded with them, speaking as the Princess of
Tearmoon, but her words were lost in a sea of anger and hatred. Ultimately,
her efforts had proven futile. She’d failed to win their trust.

It’s the same as back then...
Helpless and hopeless, she watched as both princes dashed forward. Her
whole world seemed to darken as they raised their swords, each ready to
plunge theirs into the chest of the other. In a way, she thought, perhaps this
was inevitable. Perhaps she was the fool for ever thinking otherwise. Faced
with people who’d already drawn their swords and resolved to fight, words
were ultimately powerless. And hers, especially, reached no one.
...Or did they?
Did her words truly reach no one? No! Absolutely not! Though they fell
on the deaf ears of the dueling princes, the bonds she’d forged would carry
her voice. Whither would it go? Who was listening? Why, her faithful
subjects, of course!
“Now aren’t you two a bloody handful...”
A form flew past Mia in a blur, leaving a burst of wind in its wake that
caught a tear on her cheek and lifted it into the air. The crystalline droplet
sparkled in the sunlight.
“Time to break it up, boys. You’re making our dear princess cry.”
The form continued to surge forward like a sentient gale, soaring up into
the sky before crashing back down between the two princes just as their
swords were about to meet. Abel swung his blade down. Sion swept his up.
There was a sharp clang— No, two! Then a pair of swords twirled through
the air and landed on the ground. The two princes, both disarmed, froze and
stared down the blades now pointed at their chests toward the man who held
them.
Dion Alaia, a sword in each hand, smiled. “See, our princess is a bit of a
crybaby, so I’d appreciate it if you stopped giving her more reasons to make a
scene.”
“Ahh...”
The sudden appearance of an ally brought a wave of relief that washed

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through Mia and turned her legs to jelly. She swayed a little before toppling
backward, but she landed, not on the hard surface of the ground, but in the
tender embrace of something warm and soft.

“Milady!”
A familiar voice rang in her ear. She spun to find an equally familiar face.
“A-Anne!”
Her first and most faithful subject held her in her arms, tears streaming
down her face.
“Anne... Anne...”
Mia wrapped her arms around Anne and squeezed, burying her face in her
chest. The precious moment, however, was interrupted by a roar of fury.
“Insolent knave! You dare brandish a weapon at His Highness Prince
Abel? Lower it at once!” The man who had been guarding Mia, Bernardo the
Adamantine Spear, glared with rage at Dion.
“Have you no honor? No shame? You have intruded upon a sacred duel
between princes!”
Dion chuckled.
“Well, well, well, I guess I have. Yeah, I can see why you’d be pissed,
what with your precious prince dueling to the death while you grind your
teeth resisting the urge to help out. Meanwhile, little old me just strolls in and
joins the fun. Infuriating, isn’t it? Thing is, my allegiance is sworn to neither
of Their Highnesses.”
“Silence, scoundrel! Your impudence is deserving of death! Consider
your life forfeit!”
The enraged commander rushed toward Dion who, in response, dropped
the sword in his left hand and switched to a two-handed grip for the one in
his right. He watched his approaching foe with a wolfish grin.

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Chapter 39: The Empire’s Finest Versus

the Adamantine Spear

The Adamantine Spear was a name that simultaneously described both
weapon and wielder. Bernardo raised his armament of choice — a hefty beast
of pure steel from tip to shaft that normal soldiers strained to even lift — with
fearsome ease and charged.

“For your insolence, you shall die by my spear!”
Like a one-man stampede, he thundered toward Dion with the force and
ferocity of a whole line of cavalry. His momentum coupled with the power of
his thrust propelled his spear forward at terrifying speed.
Ker-ching!
A heavy metallic clang reverberated through the air. The next instant,
their overlapping forms parted again and Bernardo came to a stop behind
Dion. Neither moved to disturb the ensuing silence. Eventually, Dion spoke,
his arm still outstretched from the swing of his sword.
“I see. A deadly thrust indeed... Most impressive. I have one question
though...” He turned with a smile and pointed with his sword. “Why are you
still holding that thing? Are you going to try to beat me to death with it?”
On cue, the metallic tip of a spear whistled as it fell from the sky and
embedded itself in the ground. The scene drew little reaction from the
onlooking soldiers. It was, after all, a common sight on the battlefield for a
spear to lose its head. Then someone gasped. It was echoed by a few others.
Soon, a wave of commotion began to spread through the audience as they
came to a startling realization — Bernardo’s spear was one unbroken bar of
steel. The only way to separate its tip was...
“Cutting through steel. An impressive feat. It appears that I am faced with
a competent foe.”
Bernardo turned as well and examined the mirror-smooth cross section of
his spear shaft. During the split second they’d clashed, Dion had swung his
sword with blinding speed, slicing clean through the thick steel rod.

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“Well, you tend to step it up when there’s an audience, right? Especially
when said audience happens to be your royal mistress. What about you,
though? What’re you gonna do with your, you know, stick?”

“Hmph. Obviously... I’m going to beat you to death with it.” Bernardo
twirled his spear-turned-staff with expert flair and smiled. In his hands, the
decapitated polearm remained a deadly weapon, as it still had more than
enough heft to smash skulls and shatter bones. He was entirely unperturbed
by the unexpected alteration to his weapon. If anything, he looked positively
thrilled. This time, it was Dion’s turn to pay his opponent a compliment.

“Bahaha, you’re a real riot. I think I like you. Good to know Remno has
its fair share of crazy bastards. Mind if I ask you your name?”

“Bernardo Virgil, Captain of the Knights of the Second Company.”
“Oh damn. The famed Adamantine Spear. Nice, nice. I see you live up to
your name. Remno’s got some serious heavyweights in their service.”
“May I know your name as well, Sir Knight?”
“Dion Alaia. I don’t mean to brag, but I consider myself the strongest
knight in the empire.” He paused. “Hm, you know what? I guess I do mean to
brag.”
This quip was met with a snort.
“Hah. If you, Sir, are the empire’s finest, then Tearmoon poses little
threat.”
“...Big words, Adamantine Spear. You’d better be able to back them up,
or you’re really gonna regret it.” Dion pulled his other sword out of the
ground and again assumed his dual-wielding stance.
“Regret? There is no place in the spearman’s code for such feeble
sentiments. We abide by three tenets: charge, pierce, and breach.” Bernardo
readied his headless spear, preparing to drive its end, blunt though it may be,
straight through the chest of his opponent. All the onlookers held their breath
as the two peerless warriors traded deadly glares. Just as the air began to
thicken with lethal tension, a bold, resonant voice shattered the asphyxiating
silence.
“Enough! Know that you stand in the presence of Her Highness Princess
Mia!”
Suddenly, Ludwig was standing beside her.
“It is her will that all fighting shall cease immediately! Both of you, lower
your weapons!”

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Dion shot her a glance before letting out a very conspicuous sigh of
reluctant resignation and plunging both swords into the ground. Then he gave
Bernardo a questioning gaze, who tsked and lowered his “spear” with a
grimace.

Bernardo had joined the fray for two reasons. The first was obvious: a
man of unknown identity was holding a sword within swinging distance of
Abel, and that was a situation that needed to be resolved immediately.
Though the man displayed no intention of harming the prince, that didn’t
mean Bernardo could just stand there and twiddle his thumbs. The second
and more important reason was to take command of the situation — to have
the power. Unfortunately, with his weapon now lowered, he was no longer
the center of attention, and all eyes naturally drifted toward the figure who
now occupied center stage. The ball was in Mia’s court; she had the power.

“...Eh?”
Which was just about the last thing she’d expected. She was, after all, not
the only Highness present. Abel was a prince, albeit second in line, and Sion
was her equal. Nothing about her should have stood out. However,
Bernardo’s reputation for being a fierce knight had made Dion’s dominating
performance against him all the more incredible, and to then see him — the
man who’d both proclaimed to be the empire’s finest and had the chops to
back it up — obediently sheath his sword as soon as Mia’s name was
mentioned... It was undeniable proof of her authority.
Through a deft display of social manipulation, Ludwig had placed her
firmly at the top of the perceived hierarchy of power. Convinced that the
stage was set, he turned to her and, with a mixture of pride and anticipation,
passed her the proverbial baton.
She really didn’t want that baton. Her legs still hadn’t solidified, and her
face was a weepy mess.
Huh? What? Why is everyone looking at me?
Having been made the focus of all the soldiers’ gazes, her chicken heart
quivered, and she almost squawked with terror. The only thing that stopped
her was the comforting presence of her loyal vassals. With a pleading look,
she turned to Anne. Her first and most faithful subject promptly nodded,
wiped away Mia’s tears, cleaned her face, touched up her hair, and nodded
again.
“Don’t worry. We’re right behind you.”

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It was then that Mia realized her fate was sealed.
Ahh... I see. There’s no getting out of this, is there?
With no other choice, she braced herself and turned toward the soldiers,
her tear-moistened eyes and bath-cleansed skin imparting upon her an aura of
ethereal beauty.

Later, when Elise published her “Princess Chronicles,” readers would find
within it an excerpt quoting a soldier who had been present during this
confrontation. The passage went as follows.

“When she appeared, it was [as if the moon goddess herself] was
[descending upon the battlefield.]”

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Chapter 40: Mia’s “Legendary” Speech

For those who are starting to forget, it bears repeating that Mia was, in
fact, born and raised a princess and therefore, was quite used to speaking in
front of crowds. Back in the previous timeline there had been times when,
accompanied by Ludwig, she would appear before large gatherings of people
and give speeches, all the while being constantly insulted and struggling to
project her voice over the angry din. Even so...

Th-This is sort of scary!
She shuddered a little at the concentrated onslaught of so many gazes. To
be fair, it was only natural to feel nervous when a bunch of armed young men
were all waiting with bated breath for her next words.
Geez, they could at least be nice enough to make some noise or
something. It’s so quiet I could hear a pin drop! How am I supposed to relax
like this?
With truly royal arrogance, she mentally chastised her audience for failing
to provide her with a suitably conversational environment. How dare they
listen so intently? What if she fumbled a sentence? It’d be so embarrassing!
“Everyone, please lend me your ears. I am Mia Lun— Ack!” she said as
her tongue failed to move out of the way of her teeth.
In a most timely display of karmic justice, she fumbled her opening
sentence in the worst way possible, by bungling her own name. It was also
rather painful, as she’d bit it in the exact same spot as last time. She hoped it
wasn’t going to turn into a canker.
As for her audience... They were caught completely off guard, and the
tension on their faces vanished at once. A few burst out laughing. Most
regarded the red-cheeked Mia with good-natured smiles. Ludwig, meanwhile,
was stunned. He stared at her, awed by the fact that it’d taken her little more
than half a sentence to capture the hearts of every soldier present.
“No way... Was that intentional too?” he murmured, blissfully ignorant of
how far he was drifting from reality.
Mia had no such luck. She was intensely aware of her blunder and, visibly

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shaking from embarrassment, she shambled back toward Anne and buried her
face in her shirt.

“...I don’t want to do this anymore.”
“M-Milady! Don’t give up yet!”
“...I’ve never been so humiliated in my entire life!” she exclaimed,
funneling her emotions into anger; it helped take her mind off her shame.
Not that she had anyone to get angry at, of course, considering it was
entirely her own fault. Nevertheless, the outburst allowed her to collect
herself, and she attempted her speech again... Only to realize there was a
problem.
Huh. Now I remember. I have no speech.
It barely even needs to be said that Mia did not have a plan to stop the
Remno army. The whole point of coming here was to see Abel. She hadn’t
put much thought into the matter to begin with, and now that her original
objective was complete, she was even more clueless as to what should come
next.
Wh-Wh-What should I do?
In an effort to hide her fluster, she put on a big, bright smile. Beaming
from ear to ear, she swept her gaze across the surrounding soldiers, who
found themselves further enamored by her charm. The power of a good bath
was not to be underestimated; she positively glowed. She smiled and smiled.
A drop of sweat rolled down her forehead.
I-I can’t just keep smiling like this! I need to say something!
Some people find silence hard to bear, and start talking to compensate.
This often results in them blabbing about things better left unsaid. Mia
happened to be one of these people, and she felt a desperate need to fill the
silence with her own voice. As a result, she blurted out the first thing that
came to mind.
“You know, I really wish all of you gentlemen from the Remno army
would just pack up and go home.”
Blunt. But honest, at least.
“Pack up... and go home? You expect us to leave the rebel army alone and
withdraw? What you suggest is absolutely ludicrous!”
For obvious reasons, her request was not well received. Bernardo’s
objection came hard and fast, coupled with an angry glare that seemed to say,
“What the hell is this girl talking about?” It made Mia flinch.

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Eeek! Th-This man is terribly frightening! He reeks of something
familiar... I know! I smelled the same thing from Captain Dion, and it’s
danger!

Being fixed with a menacing glare from the Remno commander finally
sent enough of a jolt through Mia to get her brain working again. While took
her long enough was definitely the right reaction to have here, one must also
consider its idiomatic foil: better late than never. With her mental faculties in
working order again, she concluded that there was but one way for her to
escape this predicament.

“L-Ludicrous? The only thing that’s ludicrous... is for you to be fighting
each other.”

Her method? Straight up flattery. Her message was, in essence, “This is a
gathering of riffraff we’re talking about. Self-respecting knights such as
yourselves should not deign to brawl with the rabble.”

Her sweet-talking, however, only darkened the mood, and a couple of
soldiers even began to glower at her. The explanation wasn’t complicated;
from their perspective, it felt like they were putting their lives on the line to
fight for peace and order, only to have their courage belittled. Some of the
soldiers wore puzzled frowns. It would have been understandable if her
criticism were levied at the ethicality of slaughtering civilians. They could
even stomach her condemnation if she were arguing entirely from a pacifistic
point of view, as the fear of conflict could certainly push a young girl to
voice her opposition to war and bloodshed.

Her language suggested it was neither. Of all the things she could have
said, she chose to throw Bernardo’s words right back at him, describing their
actions as ludicrous. Not cruel, not immoral, but ludicrous. Why?

By this point, rumors about Mia had begun to spread throughout Remno.
Those familiar with Prince Abel had heard stories from him about the Great
Sage of the Empire, who’d turned the weak-willed prince into a dependable
young lord. Slowly, the crowd began to doubt the righteousness of their
mission.

“If the Great Sage of the Empire says this battle is ludicrous,” they
thought to themselves, “then maybe it actually is?”

Doubt crept into their hearts. Unsettled, they waited on her next words
with growing anticipation.

Eek! I-I can’t believe my lip service isn’t working on these people!

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Mia had never been a smooth talker, so, despite what she thought of
herself, ineffectual lip service was actually the norm for her. Nevertheless,
she astutely picked up on the shifting sentiments in the soldiers’ gazes. Some
were now infused with curiosity; others, with anger. Cold sweat dripped
down the back of her neck as it occurred to her that she might be in a
precarious position. She opened her mouth to speak... and a voice rang out. It
took her a moment to realize it wasn’t her own.

“Now isn’t that an intriguing choice of words, Mia. In fact, I believe this
isn’t the first time you’ve used such perturbing language. What did you say
the other day again? That ‘something didn’t add up’?” said a now-bandaged
Sion as he crossed his arms and gave her a thoughtful look.

“That’s it!”
She jumped on it. She had no idea what “it” was, but she jumped on it
anyway. Anything to change the topic.
“Y-You’re absolutely right!” she continued. “I did say that. Something
doesn’t add up.”
Luckily, as soon as she said it, she felt it again — the unpleasant sense
that something shapeless and invisible was stuck to her thoughts. It really
didn’t add up. Something about this whole situation was entirely wrong. It
wasn’t so much reasoned analysis as it was intuition — an unconscious
insight gained in her previous life when the embers of Tearmoon’s revolution
had yet to burst into flame.
She’d spent those days watching the empire crumble in agonizing detail as
Ludwig delivered her report after dreadful report in his trademark caustic
tone. The things she’d seen since coming to Remno were far removed from
the Tearmoon of her past. However, the cause of insurrection and the ensuing
sequence of events were disconcertingly similar.
The parallel between Outcount Rudolvon and the Chancellor Dasayev
Donovan was striking. In both cases, the persecution of a noble who took the
people’s side triggered a popular revolt. Mirrored again was the subsequent
intervention by the Kingdom of Sunkland, who stepped in to save the masses
from the tyranny of their own ruler. What were the chances that two locations
with completely different conditions would see the same sequence of events
play out?
No way. That can’t possibly be coincidence.
Viewed in this light, it was almost as if someone was trying to set

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Sunkland up to look like a crusader of justice. Was it the wish of a higher
power? Or the doings of a demonic will?

“It feels almost like... we’re dealing with a terribly devious scheme.”
At that, a problem occurred to her.
Wait a minute... But how am I supposed to explain this to everyone?
Indeed, she’d be hard-pressed to explain why things didn’t add up, seeing
as her reasoning was based on experiences from a previous life.
Wh-What should I do?!
As she quickly descended into panic, an unexpected voice came to her
rescue.
“A devious scheme, you say... Interesting. Do you suggest, then, that this
revolt is the product of conspiracy? That there are nefarious actors who seek
to divide our kingdom through unrest, and that we are but hapless fools
playing into their hands as we shed the blood of our brethren? Is that why...
you referred to this battle as ludicrous, Your Highness?” asked Bernardo. His
eyes were still fixed on Mia, but the menace that had colored them was
replaced by intrigue.
“Eh?”
Mia gaped as her two loyal subjects chimed in as well.
“Your Highness saw through this conspiracy so swiftly. Again, I am awed
by your wisdom.”
“You’re amazing, milady!”
The only one unmoved was Dion, who crossed his arms and watched the
proceedings from the sidelines.
“Which would suggest that Prince Sion knew as well...” Bernardo mused
as he turned toward Sion. “Was that why you risked your life in a duel to stop
His Highness?”
Sion shook his head.
“No, I—”
Two dainty hands slammed across his mouth.
Wh-What in the moons do you think you’re doing?! There’s a time for
honesty, and there’s a time to not be stupid! Why would you say no when
everyone’s ready to wrap things up and move on?!
Sure, Sion’s reason for fighting Abel might have stemmed from a clash of
ideals and a mutual refusal to bend rather than knowledge of a conspiracy,
and yes, pretending it was the latter might be disrespectful toward Abel and

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sort of unscrupulous... But Mia couldn’t care less about propriety right now.
Keeping Sion firmly muffled, she hastily formulated a line of logic to
convince him to shut up. The speed with which she did so was breathtaking,
knocking out a personal best for cerebral rpm in the process.

“U-Uh, more specifically, I’d say you’re maybe about half right.”
“Half right?”
Bernardo raised an eyebrow at her. The gesture was mimicked by Sion, to
whom she hastily whispered, “Look, you came here to protect me, right?
Which means if my goal was to deal with this devious scheme thing, then that
has to be one of your goals too. So on one hand, you have whatever you came
to do, and on the other, you have what I came to do. Half and half, so he’s
half right. Right?”
She spoke in a tone that suggested she was not going to take no for an
answer.
“Well, I suppose you could say that—”
“Good! Then it’s settled!”
She declared this with a tone of utter finality before turning slightly rabid
eyes on the surrounding soldiers.
Well?! How’s that?! S-Surely, that was enough to convince them!
Seeing that nobody voiced any complaints, her expression brightened with
relief. Right at that moment, Bernardo spoke.
“Unfortunately...” His voice was grim. “That is no reason for us to leave,
Your Highness. While I do wish to hear your basis for suspecting foul play...
Even if you do provide concrete proof of the existence of such individuals,
our mission remains unchanged. We must still disband the rebel army and
restore order to this town.”
Oh no... I-I figured it wasn’t going to be that easy, but still...
She hung her head, crestfallen...
“The same, I suspect, is true for them. Upon learning that their taxes will
not be lowered, I likewise doubt the rebel army will lower their weapons.”
...Only to perk up again at Bernardo’s statement.
“My, I do believe you are mistaken. What the rebel army — that is, the
people involved in this uprising — is demanding is the release of the
Chancellor, Dasayev Donovan.”
Her reply sent a wave of commotion rolling through the Remno army.
“...Your Highness, have you received word from His Majesty that Lord

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Donovan has been imprisoned?” asked Bernardo.
“No... He never mentioned anything of the sort. This is the first time I’ve

heard of such a thing.”
Abel, who’d returned from having his injuries treated, shook his head in

bewilderment. Mia gave him a quick once-over and, seeing that he’d
sustained no major injuries, breathed a sigh of relief.

“I see... It appears then that we would be wise to listen to Her Highness in
this regard. Should we manage to rescue Lord Donovan from his mysterious
captors, then we may indeed succeed in convincing the rebel army to stand
down, but... Until we know where he is being held, there is precious little we
can do,” said Bernardo.

Dion nodded. “As a matter of fact, I was just thinking about that myself.
Being all wise and sagely,” he said, glancing at Mia, “I assume Her Highness
has already figured out where we should go to find him. Thing is, are we
going to discover a man or a body?”

The Chancellor was no hostage. He was a lit fuse — a mere instrument —
for inciting the masses to revolt. There was no need to keep him alive.
Indeed, his trans-dimensional counterpart, Outcount Rudolvon, had not
survived his role as the catalyst of Tearmoon’s revolution. Dion’s concern
was very reasonable given the circumstances.

“Eh?”
Obvious, unless you were Mia, of course. She no longer had any control
over the conversation, and it had plunged forward, leaving her lost in the
dust.
“Uh... Huh? That’s... uh...”
Faced again with a question she couldn’t answer, help came — again —
from an unexpected source.
“Allow me to answer that question.”
Hearing a familiar voice, she spun to find Keithwood smiling awkwardly
as he scratched at his mop of red hair. Perched on his shoulder was a bird
with a beautiful coat of black feathers.
“Keithwood!” exclaimed Sion. “You’re safe! And— Wait... what’s with
the crow?”
The young attendant shrugged.
“Depends on who’s asking, I guess. For them, a herald of fortune. But for
us... probably a bringer of bad news.”

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The seeds Mia sowed had spread far and wide, burying themselves in the
soil of distant lands. As they grew, they lifted the heart of a certain black
bird. The bird then returned the favor, carrying the young saplings, now
infused with Monica’s message of hope, back into the hands of the one who
could avert this tragedy — the Great Sage of the Empire.

The time of their bloom drew ever closer.

“I’d like to report to Prince Sion first. Please excuse us.”
Mia waited for Keithwood and Sion to distance themselves before
approaching Abel. She figured they had some time before anything else could
happen.
“Prince Abel, are you all right?”
“Yes, thanks to your two-sworded vassal over there. If the duel had
continued, I might not be standing here right now. It looks like I still have a
lot more training to do.”
As he spoke, Mia realized something.
Is it just me... or does he look to be in even better shape than before?
My...
The last time they’d met was before the summer holidays. Compared to
then, he was a little taller, more muscular, and generally had a more regal air.
A mesmerized sigh escaped her lips as she beheld the maturing prince.
“Hm? What’s the matter, Princess Mia?” he asked with one eyebrow
raised.
Only then did Mia realize she’d been openly ogling him, and she hastily
averted her gaze.
“N-Nothing! Nothing at all.”
“Are you sure? You look a little flushed... Maybe you pushed yourself too
hard coming here.”
“My, how considerate. But if anyone has been pushing themselves, I’d
say it was you— Ah!” Suddenly, she remembered something. “Hmph! I’m
not falling for that! You’re a terrible person and I hate you!”
“Wha— Falling for what? What did I do?”
She pointed an accusing finger at the flustered prince.
“You know very well what you did, Prince Abel! You ignored me back
there and went off to do something terribly dangerous! I bet you didn’t even

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spare a thought for how I would feel!” Then, with the most indignant of
hmphs, she looked away, her arms crossed and her expression crosser. “And
then there’s Sion... I can’t believe him! He actually tried to hurt you! The two
of you, I swear... ”

The thought made her so upset that she bristled with anger. Abel watched
her with a faint smile. At first, it was fond. Then, it turned wistful.

“I’m Prince Abel, but he... He’s just Sion, huh...”
His voice was barely more than a whisper. For a few seconds, Mia stared
at him, confused by what he meant. Then it hit her.
Oh? Do I smell jealousy? Is he upset that I don’t sound as close to him as
I do Sion?
She identified his concealed emotions with masterful precision. Mia’s
instincts, you see, were razor-sharp when it counted — during the most
frivolous, inconsequential situations. Having glimpsed into his heart, a small
grin spread across her lips.
To be making such a big fuss over what we call each other... Oh, he’s
such a boy. How adorable.
She regarded him with smug superiority, blissfully ignorant of the
profound hypocrisy therein. This was, after all, the same person who’d gone
into a tailspin when Sion had dropped the “princess” from her name.
Fortunately for her, such inconvenient facts had long drifted past the distant
horizon of her memory.
“That was to hide our identities. There’s no deeper meaning behind it. We
are technically undercover right now.”
“Ah, I see. So that’s why. I’m... glad to hear it.”
The sight of his relieved smile pleased her even more. At this point, she
was practically glowing with delight, having wrapped all her anger and
indignation into a ball and hurled it past the same horizon that had consumed
her prior memories. The horizon of her memory, you see, was never more
than a stone’s throw away.
Oh, what am I going to do with you. All right, all right, you win. I suppose
I’ll drop the “prince” for you as well. In fact, seeing as you’re still a child,
it’s quite normal for a mature young lady like me to call you “Abel.”
So, with the abundant confidence of an adult, she spoke to the young
prince in a voice filled with maturity and composure.
“U-Uh... So, um... A-A... A-A-Ab...”

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Maturity and composure. What do those words mean again?
“I... I won’t mind if you, um, c-c-call me... Mia. And I’ll, um... call you...
A-A... A-A-Abel.”
She stammered and sputtered, trying to say his name. In the end, she only
succeeded by appending a very quiet “prince” to the front. Fortunately, he
didn’t seem to hear that part, and his eyes went wide in shock. It took her a
dozen tries and stressed her out to no end, but she finally managed to say his
name by itself. Abel beamed.
“Really?! It would be an absolute honor for me!”
Pure delight radiated from him like the innocence of a child, which,
juxtaposed against the burgeoning maturity he’d displayed moments before,
proved mutually accentuating and captured Mia’s heart. It pounded out a
rapid staccato in her chest as her cheeks grew hot and her vision swam. She
swayed a little, feeling like she was floating a few inches off the ground. The
abundant confidence of an adult was nowhere to be seen.
“Uh, so... In that case... M-Mia?”
“Y-Yes?!”
Hearing her name made her straighten like she’d been caught with her
hand in the cookie jar. Breathing hard, she ventured a response.
“U-Um... Yes, Abel?”
Then, overwhelmed by embarrassment, she turned her reddened face
downward. For the next little while, the two fledgling lovebirds shared in that
unique abashed air of the romance of youth. A ways off from them, the
atmosphere surrounding Sion and Keithwood was a world of difference as
they spoke to each other with grim expressions. Eventually, the Sunkland pair
concluded their discussion and returned to the group. Sion’s face was a tad
pale.
“Prince Abel, Mia... I need to tell you something.”
His voice was stiff, and he spoke the words like they had barbs.
“What’s the matter, Sion? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She was about to follow up with a quip to the effect of “Though the ghost
would probably look worse after seeing you” but thought better of it when
she noticed his face was ashen, the skin so devoid of color he barely looked
alive. With a gulp, she asked again, “Sion? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer her. Instead, he stepped in front of Abel. Then he
dropped to his knees, pressed his hands on the ground, and prostrated himself

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before the other prince.
“Eeek?!”
Startled by the abruptness of the gesture, Mia gasped and backed off a few

steps before quickly glancing at the sky to check if any farm animals had
taken flight. She wasn’t practicing a comedy routine; it really was that
shocking. Sion Sol Sunkland had just done a full on head-to-ground bow;
pigs flying would be less bizarre. Faced with the extraordinary sight of a
humbled Sion, Mia was overcome with triumph. Or rather, she would have
been, if she wasn’t completely creeped out. She had literal goosebumps.

It’s extremely satisfying to watch him go down on his knees, but this has to
be some sort of bad omen or something, right? I mean, him? On his knees?
No way that’s not a sign of something terrible to come.

An objective bystander would have pointed out that was a very rude thing
to think, but no one had access to her thoughts, so her indelicate commentary
went unnoticed. While she watched the scene unfold in stunned silence, Abel
spoke up.

“Stabbing swordsellers... Prince Sion, what is the meaning of this? Please,
get up. Whatever you have to say, you don’t have to do it like this,” he said,
kneeling down as well.

Sion kept his head down.
“I’m sorry, Prince Abel... I owe you an apology.”
“What do you mean?” asked Abel, his expression growing tense.
His answer came from Keithwood, who stepped forward to answer in his
master’s place.
“Our kingdom operates an intelligence unit known as the Wind Crows.
We have discovered that one of its squads has gone rogue. The members of
that squad are the true culprits behind this dilemma we’re faced with.”
As Keithwood divulged the truth of their situation, Mia’s jaw hit the
ground. It was a decidedly unprincesslike expression, but at this moment in
time, looking like a clown practicing in front of a mirror was the least of her
concerns.
Wh-Wh-What in the moons?!
She tried to make sense of what she’d just heard, but her thoughts went
round and round in futile circles.
B-But... I suppose it makes sense. The revolts in Tearmoon and Remno
both worked out in Sunkland’s favor, so it’s not much of a stretch to imagine

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that Sunkland could have been behind them...
She closed her eyes. The next thing she knew, she was staring up at the

guillotine again as the bleeding sun dyed everything crimson. She
remembered the din of the crowd, the scent of wood, and the chilling terror of
her impending death. Except now, the roles were all wrong. The heroes were
villains; the convict was the judge. The chain of events that had led to this
horrific moment... was all Sunkland’s doing. Sunkland had paved the road to
the guillotine, and then sentenced her to death for walking it.

She shook her head, and the moment passed. When she opened her eyes
again, there was no bleeding sun and no guillotine. There was only Sion, his
head pressed firmly to the ground. She regarded him for a long moment, and
then she understood.

Ah... This is mine too, isn’t it? This apology... In a way, it’s also meant for
me.

Maybe it was karma. Or perhaps a whim of fate. Whatever it was, it
offered closure. Justice was served; vengeance, concluded. By all measures,
it should have been a moment of triumph. And yet...

This is... not a sight that feels good to look upon.
Something bitter and stifling roiled in her heart — not an ache, but close
— and for some reason, she knew that even if she were to take the blade of
judgment and use it to slice through Sion’s neck, her shapeless affliction was
unlikely to subside. The realization didn’t surprise her either. In fact, it
seemed all too obvious. They’d gone to school together. They’d traveled
together. To then derive pleasure from watching the condemnation of
someone with whom so much had been shared was unthinkable for all but the
most wicked hearted.
Sion’s stubborn, so he’s probably tied down by all sorts of things... but
there’s no need for me to follow his philosophy.
If she didn’t like something, then she didn’t like it, and that was that. Mia
First applied as much to interests as it did emotions.
But... I wonder what Abel intends to do?
The one who concerned her now was Abel. He had the right to pass
judgment on Sion — to seek penalty for that which had been done. It would
be the same approach and attitude that Sion himself had always employed.
Those who held power bore responsibility. It was their duty to bring
criminals to justice.

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In this case, technically, the one who sabotaged the Kingdom of Remno
wasn’t Sion himself. Responsibility would fall first to Sunkland, and
therefore, its king. Sion would never settle for such an arrangement. It went
against everything he’d been taught and all the values by which he bound
himself. In his eyes, he was not free of guilt.

Mia swallowed. Her lips felt dry. She watched with bated breath as Abel,
still kneeling, moved a little closer to Sion.

“Please rise, Prince Sion. Such conduct does not become you.”
“But...”
“You can keep staring at the ground all you want if it makes you feel
better, but if you ask me... When it comes to taking responsibility for your
actions, I believe royalty should do so in a manner befitting royalty.”
“A manner befitting royalty...”
“Our duty is to our people, and through our rule, to deliver them peace
and pleasure. I thought the only way to terminate this conflict was through
the sword. However... someone has shown me that I was wrong. That there is
another way to put an end to this ‘ludicrous’ battle...”
Abel glanced at Mia, and his expression softened. Then he spoke to Sion
again.
“The way has already been lit for us. All that is left to us is to walk it. Am
I wrong?”
“...I see. It is as you say.” Sion let out a resigned breath and got up onto
his feet. “I can lower my head. I can beg forgiveness. I can even wish to be
condemned... but in the end, it’s little more than the theatrics of a guilty
conscience seeking an excuse to be absolved. Is that right?”
“We were saved from ourselves, you and I both. Now we have been given
a chance to do what is right with these mantles we bear. It is my belief that
we should approach it with gratitude and commitment.”
“Commitment... to walk this precious path the Great Sage of the Empire
has lit for us.”
The two of them looked as one toward Mia, who approached them with a
satisfied smile.

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Chapter 41: Princess Mia... Kicks High!

Mia watched the exchange between Abel and Sion from a distance.
Judging from how they were interacting, it seemed like Abel had forgiven
Sion.

Oh, what a relief... Good for you, Abel.
She felt a small rush of delight at the thought that he’d come to the same
conclusion as her.
Also, after all this, Sion won’t be going around with his nose in the air for
a good while. Wonderful, she thought as she approached him with a smug
grin.
“I’m glad to see you’ve been forgiven.”
“Yes. All thanks to you, Mia.”
He turned to face her and quietly bowed his head. Beside them, Abel gave
a wry shrug.
“To be fair, my father wasn’t entirely in the right either. I can’t shift all
the blame to Sunkland.”
Abel’s words struck a chord with Mia, who knew with intimate familiarity
that responsibility did not lie solely with the conspiracy. Tearmoon’s
downfall was brought about as much by malice as its own internal corruption.
Its reckoning was inevitable. That was why she’d put aside all her grievances.
All except one.
“It would appear, Sion, that you have finally gotten a taste of failure.”
Sion looked up at her, taken aback by her comment.
“This might come as a surprise to someone like you,” she continued, “but
we are all human. And humans will fail. No one lives perfectly. That is why
we forgive, so that we may all have chances to make amends.”
Especially me! she thought. Make sure I get my chances!
This was particularly important for her, because in the previous timeline
she’d been afforded no such chance whatsoever. Now that the situation had
calmed and she was thinking a little more clearly, a thought popped into her
head.

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